


Act of Creation

by Sakiku



Series: Acts [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Creation, Other, Plug and Play, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakiku/pseuds/Sakiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Besides Vector Sigma, there is another way of creating new mechs: spark-budding. A powerful transformer practically sexes an empty frame to life. Pre-war Optimus calls one of his later Autobots into existence in this fashion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Act of Creation

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to get technical about it, there's a major minor-alert. The 'new-born' has adult processing capabilities and an adult character, but it is nevertheless completely new to the world. Once again a kink-meme fill. Prompt's here: <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=9636318#t9636318>

The frame is empty and barren, and yet it is so _perfect_ in its configuration. A high-point in technical engineering with sensor wings so fine they can trace electromagnetic fields joors after the mech has passed, with processors so fast they can render mandeleyan fractals down to subatomic levels, with tactical knowledge so vast it encompasses the entirety of Cybertronian history. A mech with motor control fine enough to become a sharpshooter, with dexterity enough to become an artist. And while the protoform isn't yet equipped with surface plates, the armor-bonding nanofibers are already in place. They cover all surface struts in their microscopic density, giving normally gleaming metal a velvety appearance.

With barely concealed longing Optimus connects to the empty frame's hardline port. Slowly, oh so slowly, does he start the energy transfer that is necessary to get the frame operational. At first it is electron by electron that the charge trickles out of him, then harder and faster until he is nourishing the frame with his entire output.

Just as carefully, he inserts a shunt into the main energon line of his wrist, and connects it to the empty frame's wrist port. It hurts a bit, but the hurt is far eclipsed by the ecstasy of being allowed to feed a new frame with his own life-blood.

Were he any smaller, medical concerns would necessitate that Optimus either find a second energon donor or fill the missing volume by medical injection. As it is, the empty frame is big enough that Optimus will be very drained, but he can perform the entire rite on his own.

As is only proper.

With his free servo, Optimus softly caresses the black and white helmet, the sensor-dense red chevron mounted at the front. He knows that the frame, sparkless and unpowered as it is, doesn't feel anything yet. It is more out of wonder that Optimus does it; wonder while he is waiting for his energon and his charge to fill the frame.

As Prime, he has brought many other mechs online like this, but it is a miracle every time anew. Every single time, it fills his processors with wonder when an amalgamation of metals and liquids suddenly becomes a living, processing being with thoughts and opinions and emotions.

And this frame will be one of the finest creations in all of Cybertron.

The frame is still lifeless, lying on its back on the preparatory berth. It has taken some modifications to the berth to ensure that the frame's weight doesn't damage its hypersensitive sensor panels in this position. But Optimus has insisted, because he wants to be face to face when the new creation onlines. He wants to see the glow take alight in the optics, the wonder of life when before there had been nothing.

Slowly, the charge and the energon flowing from Optimus have first tangible effects. The energon brings the potential of life to autonomous systems, and the electricity pools in capacitors and resistors and oscillating circuits. And even though the charge isn't being used yet, its mere presence makes power transformers hum and generates a very weak electromagnetic field.

Not life by a long shot, but far more alive than the frame was.

Optimus sits on a chair next to the berth, waiting patiently. It is an exhilarating meditation to feel the energy flow out of him, to have every single one of his own systems grow needy with the charge, to feel his spark pulse faster and faster in preparation for what is going to come next.

His energon levels are growing lower. Judging from the volume he has transferred, the frame should be capable of supporting a spark by now. But Optimus hates the idea of onlining a new mech just inches from starvation – onlining should be a celebrated, ecstatic occurrence. Not one overshadowed by life-threatening hunger.

So he keeps the shunt in place and revels in the fact that his own body is strong enough to give and give and keep giving.

By the time the data exchange pins of his hardline connection inform him that the frame is in top operational condition, Optimus feels a bit faint. He quickly drains the cube he has set aside for exactly this occasion. But if he – or rather, his medic Motherboard – hadn't remembered to provide the energon, he would have progressed anyway. He wants too badly to see what the new creation will be like.

Since the new mech's firewalls aren't active yet without a spark powering them, it is an easy thing to find and trigger the transformation sequence that opens the frame's spark chamber. It irises open, and actuators push it to the front until its hollow sphere gapes at Optimus.

Aside from its nearly painful emptiness, the spark chamber is a work of art.

Its crystal lattice has been grown without flaw, so perfect that it would have been entirely translucent if it wasn't for the deliberate impurities of semiconductors enclosed in the molecular grid. The symphony of atoms makes up billions upon trillions of nanocircuits, layered in ancient prayers of life and protection and yet functional as the most basic processor any transformer possesses. Microscopically thin wires are encompassed by the crystal structure, both nourishing the spark and allowing it to interact with the frame. They consolidate towards the outside, leading away in the five major cables necessary for spark chamber operation. The only time any of this can be seen is either now or after deactivation, because a spark makes it too bright and too hot to study the intimate anatomy of the crystal processor.

Optimus shivers as he trails his digits along the interior of the spark chamber. Despite the circuits covering the entire interior surface of the chamber, it feels so smooth. Only the prickly static of his own charge filling the empty frame gives a hint of the possibility of life.

After more than two breems of admiring the work of art, Optimus turns his attention to other things. Another command triggers the opening mechanism of the frame's spike-valve panel. A quick manual test reveals that it works just as perfectly as the rest of the frame does – the amount of charge Optimus has fed into the frame's systems has altered the chemical consistency of the valve's walls, resulting in a nearly frictionless glide when coupled with an equally charged spike.

Next to energy, energon, and a spark, nanites are the next most important resource to a transformer's function. They are responsible for repairs, for removing foreign bodies, for balancing internal electromagnetic forces, for synthesizing necessary building materials from energon alone if need be. There is no place in a transformer's frame where there are no nanites – not even the center of the spark.

And their main method of transference is via the spike-valve panel.

In this new protoform, there are no nanites at all. The gap between its construction and Optimus' powering was too long for any to survive. This is done deliberately, because construction nanites have entirely different programming than the ones necessary for functioning. So Optimus will be the very first one to contribute in any meaningful way, and even after vorns of operation his coding will be detectable in the new frame's nanites.

Optimus shivers again and heaves himself onto the berth. He feels sluggish and yet giddy at the same time, a curious mixture of energon depletion and a charge building deep inside him which transcends any act of simple interfacing.

He takes care to arrange himself so that not his entire weight rests on the delicate protoform. Although his armor is light and little more than ceremonial, Optimus is a hundred times more protected than the bared frame beneath him. And he is heavier by far.

From many vorns of practice, Optimus knows to grip the protoform's wrist so that the shunt and the cables linking them don't get torn out should either one of them make a sudden movement. He is nearly trembling by now, feeling how ready the systems at the other end of the hardline connection are.

With his knees he pushes the frame's legs apart, giving him access to the well-lubricated valve. His own spike is already extended simply from not resisting the natural reactions of his body, and already sized in the correct dimension to fill the valve perfectly. In a smooth move he slides home.

Only the absolute non-reaction of the lifeless frame beneath him allows him to keep his composure. Not a single twitch of flexsteel, not a single spike of electromagnetic force, and a painfully lifeless and exposed spark chamber begging at him. He nearly sobs at the emptiness, his chestplates parting automatically in response to his immense desire to see the frame filled with _life_. With a last reverent stroke to the protoform's sensory panels, he lowers himself until the opening of his own spark chamber swallows the raised one beneath him.

It is as ecstatic as it is painful to have something touching – nearly inside – his innermost workings. The crystal of the frame's chamber nearly touches his spark, and the closeness of unfamiliar crystal casing is uncomfortable at best. But the knowledge that he is creating _new life_ makes the entire hurt a moot point. Instead, he triggers small transformation sequences to push himself even closer.

In the center of their joined spark chambers, he can feel his spark pulsing faster and faster. His fans spin harder and harder, both with the strain and the pleasure, and the pulsing grows faster yet.

And then, just when he thinks he can't take it anymore without endangering his own life, there is that first little arrhythmic thump that signals that a part of his spark is ready to follow the pull of the empty chamber.

The relief filling him is incomparable.

Gradually, the tugging grows stronger and stronger, feeling like his very being is being stretched and spread beyond his capabilities. There is not enough of his processing power left to identify it as pleasure or pain, just that it is growing ever more overwhelming. His spark is twisting harder, and that other part that is trying to escape pulls harder, and pressing himself closer to the frame to minimize the distance is its own kind of agonized pleasure.

There always, always comes the moment when he thinks he is being torn apart. But his spark can always, always take just that little bit more until the escaping part can latch on to the empty spark chamber.

And then, everything happens at once. From one moment to the other the optics beneath him start to glow with life, the tendril connecting the two parts snaps, and the backlash of the force throws both of them into a spark-deep overload.

Optimus convulses on top of the newly onlined frame, and the new spark quickly finds enough autonomous control to suddenly arch its frame against Optimus in an instinctive desire to remain as close to its creator spark as possible. At the same time, the nanites Optimus' frame has prepared stream into the new mech's valve in its own kind of endless ecstasy. Had it been a regular spike-valve overload, there might have been a few specially coded types of nanites involved. As it is, the new frame needs _everything_ , and so Optimus' body releases more and deeper than he ever does outside of creation.

The new mech's consciousness is slowly assuming its function amongst endless waves of pleasure, both fed into it from Optimus via the hardline, and from the charge in its own frame. Valve action will forever be linked in the new mech's processors with the ecstasy of being given life, of onlining for the first time. Just as it is with Optimus.

Eventually, the intensity of the overload abates, and Optimus is once again glad for his foresight of gripping the new mech's wrist. They would definitely have torn out the energon shunt, if not the hardline connection itself. And that is pain that should not cloud an onlining.

Slowly, he levers himself off the smaller mech, spark chambers closing again, spike and valve pulling apart.

Once again separated into two entities, he lets his consciousness pool back into his own shell and terminates both energy and energon transfer. To Optimus' surprise, the new mech has assimilated enough of the stored knowledge in its processors to not protest any against the small pain of removing the shunt. To Optimus' even greater surprise, the new mech already has the capacity to send feelings of _gratitude_ for its onlining via the hardline.

Carefully, but glowing with the joy of creation, he sends his love back into the newly activated processors and welcomes the mech to functioning.

For a long time, they simply rest next to each other, basking in the mutual emotion of creator and creation. Optimus uses that time to recover from the strain the act of creation has put on him, while a few of his processing threads are dedicated to observing through the hardline connection how the mech gradually explores its entire operating system. It is most humbling to see a new being learn the way of its frame and its processors with so much curiosity and joy.

Every now and then its sensor wings twitch, most likely upon sensing something that Optimus can't perceive. He isn't deep enough into the new mech's processors to have access to the input feeds, so he merely keeps wondering. It isn't important anyway – the level of surveillance he runs would alert him to any bigger problems.

Finally, the new mech's optics focus on Optimus.

“You are Prime,” it says clearly, as if it had always had the capability of speech. Not to mention that those are unusual first words – they imply a level of outside awareness and processing Optimus would never have expected during the first joor, let alone the first decabreem. The new mech is indeed blessed with processors and understanding far beyond his kin.

Optimus sends another wave of joy through the hardline. “I am. But you may call me Optimus.”

Its optics grow dimmer as it mulls over the words, and Optimus senses no hardship at all at translating the auditory input into processable variables. However, instead of responding, it simply resumes its processing. Optimus lets it be, curious at what might have caught its interest but not willing to demand an explanation. Or a designation, as would have been the expected response to Optimus' introduction.

Once again he marvels at the extra-ordinariness of the creation. For, no matter how advanced its frame is, it is nothing without a spark of equal measure. And he still can't quite believe that such perfection has been created from _him_. Without Vector Sigma, without the Matrix. He, Optimus, alone.

Which he always does, but this time it is especially humbling.

When Motherboard come to look after them, the new mech sits up smoothly as if it had always had full control over its motion processors. It even manages not to entangle its sensor wings or the hardline. And then, it closes the connection and unplugs the cable. Optimus can only watch as it lets Motherboard run a few diagnostics on it and pronounce it fully functional and in perfect condition – with a little glare at Optimus, because really, he shouldn't have shared so much of his energy and his energon.

Optimus simply smiles at Motherboard, observing how the new mech makes its steady way to two Praxian senators who are waiting for it just outside the door. They have been waiting during the entire creation process, and Optimus only belatedly wonders whether the new creation has heard them talking to each other. The twitching of its sensor wings certainly would indicate that it has heard _something_.

Just before it leaves the room, his creation turns around a last time to look at Optimus lying exhaustedly on the berth. It looks most resplendent even in its unarmored protoform, with the red chevron on its helmet, the sensor wings swept out behind its back and held at an attentive angle, the matte silver gleam of its nanofiber-coated surface struts.

It studies him for a few deciklik just as he studies it, and then nods at him gravely.

“My designation is Prowl.”

Optimus nods back, suddenly feeling more drained than ever. The designation feels heavy in his spark, although he doesn't quite know why. “Thank you, Prowl. My best wishes for your further functioning.”

“Same goes to you.” The new mech hesitates a bit for the very first time. Then he flicks his sensor wings in parting. “Prime.”

With those words Prowl leaves with his two fellow Praxian frames, never once looking back. Because Optimus hasn't created Prowl for himself, but on request of the citystate of Praxis.

Optimus will always hold the designation dear in his spark, no matter what. But his processors are already running the programs to delete all attachment to his creation, partition it behind a different processor set until it is withered from disuse and can be silently purged without further injury.

While Motherboard checks him over and clucks at his low energon levels, Optimus' processors unnoticeably slip out of creation mode and back to Prime settings. Prime understands the political moves going into making creations. Prime has found ways not to get too attached. Prime understands the necessity of binding allies to him with gifts. And what bigger gift could he give than part of his spark?

The creator partition inside him is untouched by all that. It can bring new sparks to life with all the joy and all the wonder of a first time, even though it knows it has done so many times before. It can do all that because there is no knowledge beyond those two joor they give him for creation. Because it would be too cruel to online a new mech to reluctance and sadness and separation anxiety clouding his processors.

By the time Motherboard is finished, Optimus is fully Prime again. He is aware that Prowl is his creation and that Prowl is exceedingly gifted, but there are no emotions attached to the mech.

He thanks Motherboard with an easy smile and commits her instructions for further recovery to memory. They are the same as always – plenty of rest, plenty of energon, plenty of recharge. And if the ache in his spark grows a tiny bit worse with every creation he remembers and yet doesn't remember, he doesn't mention it.

He is Prime. And Primes serve their people after all.


End file.
